by Glen Cook
“Sit down. And wipe the scowl off your face. You haven’t done anything. Have you? I don’t even know your name.”
“Shed, Reverend Sir. Marron Shed. The Iron Lily has been in my family for three generations.”
“Admirable. A place with tradition. Tradition is falling by the wayside nowadays.”
“As you say, Reverend Sir.”
“I guess our reputation has preceded me. Won’t you calm down?”
“How may I help you, Reverend Sir?”
“I’m looking for a man named Asa. I hear he was a regular here.”
“So he was, sir,” Shed admitted. “I knew him well. A lazy wastrel. Hated honest work. Never a copper to his name, either. Yet he was a friend, after his fashion, and generous in his way. I let him sleep on the common room floor during the winter, because in the days of my hardship he never failed to bring wood for the fire.”
The Inquisitor nodded. Shed decided to tell most of the truth. He could not hurt Asa. Asa was beyond the reach of the Custodians.
“Do you know where he acquired the wood?”
Shed pretended acute embarrassment. “He collected it in the Enclosure, Reverend Sir. I debated with myself about using it. It wasn’t against the law. But it seemed reprehensible anyway.”
The Inquisitor smiled and nodded. “No failing on your part, Marron Shed. The Brotherhood doesn’t discourage gleaning. It keeps the Enclosure from becoming too seedy.”
“Why are you looking for Asa, then?”
“I understand he worked for a man named Krage.”
“Sort of. For a while. He thought he was king of the Buskin when Krage took him on. Strutting and bragging. But it didn’t last.”
“So I heard. It’s the timing of their falling-out that intrigues me.”
“Sir?”
“Krage and some of his friends disappeared. So did Asa, about the same time. And all of them vanished soon after somebody got into the Catacombs and looted several thousand passage urns.”
Shed tried to look properly horrified. “Krage and Asa did that?”
“Possibly. This Asa started spending old money after he began gleaning in the Enclosure. Our investigations suggest he was petty at his grandest. We think he pilfered a few urns each time he gathered wood. Krage may have found out and decided to plunder in a big way. Their falling-out may have been over that. Assuming Asa had any conscience.”
“Possibly, sir. I understood it to be a squabble over a guest of mine. A man named Raven. Krage wanted to kill him. He hired Asa to spy on him. Asa told me that himself. Krage decided he wasn’t doing his job. He never did anything right. Anyway, he never did anything very well. But that doesn’t invalidate your theory. Asa could have been lying. Probably was. He lied a lot.”
“What was the relationship between Asa and Raven?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“Where is Raven now?”
“He left Juniper right after the ice broke up in the harbor.”
The Inquisitor seemed both startled and pleased. “What became of Krage?”
“Nobody knows, Reverend Sir. It’s one of the great mysteries of the Buskin. One day he was there; the next he wasn’t. There were all kinds of rumors.”
“Could he have left Juniper, too?”
“Maybe. Some people think so. Whatever, he didn’t tell anybody. The people who worked for him don’t know anything, either.”
“Or so they say. Could he have looted enough from the Catacombs to make it worthwhile to leave Juniper?”
Shed puzzled that question. It sounded treacherous. “I don’t. … I don’t understand what you’re asking, sir.”
“Uhm. Shed, thousands of the dead were violated. Most were put away at a time when the wealthy were very generous. We suspect a sum of gold may have been involved.”
Shed gaped. He hadn’t seen any gold. The man was lying. Why? Laying traps?
“It was a major plundering operation. We’d very much like to ask Asa some questions.”
“I can imagine.” Shed bit his lip. He thought hard. “Sir, I can’t tell you what became of Krage. But I think Asa took ship for the south.” He went into a long song-and-dance about how Asa had come to him after falling out with Krage, begging to be hidden. One day he had gone out, returned later badly wounded, had hidden upstairs for a while, then had vanished. Shed claimed to have seen him from a distance only, on the docks, the day the first ships sailed for the south. “I never got close enough to talk, but he looked like he was going somewhere. He had a couple bundles with him.”
“Do you recall what ship?”
“Sir?”
“What ship did he take?”
“I didn’t actually see him board a ship, sir. I just assumed he did. He might still be around. Only I figure he would have gotten in touch if he was. He always came to me when he was in trouble. I guess he’s in trouble now, eh?”
“Maybe. The evidence isn’t conclusive. But I’m morally convinced he was in on the looting. You didn’t see Krage on the dock, did you?”
“No, sir. It was crowded. Everybody always goes down to see the first ships off. It’s like a holiday.” Was the Inquisitor buying it? Damn. He had to. An Inquisitor wasn’t somebody you got off your back by selling him into the black castle.
The Inquisitor shook his head wearily. “I was afraid you’d tell me a story like that. Damn it. You leave me no choice.”
Shed’s heart leapt into his throat. Crazy ideas swarmed through his head. Hit the Inquisitor, grab the coin box, make a run for it.
“I hate to travel, Shed. But it looks like either Bullock or I will have to go after those people. Guess who’ll get stuck?”
Relief swamped Shed. “Go after them, Reverend Sir? But the law down there doesn’t recognize the Brotherhood’s right. …”
“Won’t be easy, will it? The barbarians just don’t understand us.” He poured some wine, stared into it for a long while. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Marron Shed. You’ve been very helpful.”
Shed hoped that was a dismissal. He rose. “Anything else, Reverend Sir?”
“Wish me luck.”
“Of course, sir. A prayer for your mission this very evening.”
The Inquisitor nodded. “Thank you.” He resumed staring into his mug.
He left a fine tip. But Shed was uneasy when he pocketed it. The Inquisitors had a reputation for doggedness. Suppose they caught up with Asa?
Juniper: Shadow Dancing
I think I was pretty slick,” I told Goblin.
“You should have seen that Shed,” Pawnbroker cackled. “A chicken sweating like a pig and lying like a dog. A one-man barnyard.”
“Was he really lying?” I mused. “He didn’t say anything that conflicted with what we know.”
“What did you learn?” Goblin asked.
“I think he was lying,” Pawnbroker insisted. “Maybe by not telling everything he knew, but he was lying. He was into it somehow.”
“You keep hanging around the Lily, then. Keep an eye on him.”
“What did you learn?” Goblin demanded.
Elmo came in. “How’d it go?”
“Great,” I said. “I found out what happened to Raven.”
“What?” he and Goblin both demanded.
“He left town. By ship. The first day the harbor was open.”
“Darling, too?” Goblin asked.
“You see her around? What do you think?”
Pawnbroker mused, “Bet that Asa went with him. Old Shed said they both left the first day.”
“Could be. I was proud of myself, catching him with that. Looks to me, now, like this Shed is our only outside loose end. He’s the only one who knows what happened to them. No Shed, nobody to maybe tell Bullock or the Taken anything.”
Elmo frowned. The suggestion was more in keeping with his style than mine. He thought I’d put it forward seriously. “I don’t know. Sounds too simple. Anyway, we’re starting to get noticed down there, aren’t we?”
/> Goblin nodded. “We’re supposed to be sailors who missed our ship, but people are comparing notes, trying to figure us out. If Shed got killed, there might be enough fuss to get Bullock wondering. If he gets wondering, sooner or later the news would get back to the Taken. I figure we ought to save heroic measures for heroic circumstances.”
Pawnbroker agreed. “That Shed’s got something to hide. I know that in my guts. Croaker told him about the raid on the Catacombs. He hardly blinked. Anybody else would have whooped off and spread the news like the plague.”
“Kingpin still watching him?” I asked.
“Him and Sharkey and Tickle are taking turns. He ain’t going to be able to poot without we know about it.”
“Good. Keep it that way. But don’t mess with him. We just want to keep him away from Bullock and the Taken.” I faded away into my thoughts.
“What?” Elmo finally asked.
“I had an idea while I was talking to Shed. Bullock is our main risk, right? And we know he’ll stick like a bulldog once he gets on a trail. And he’s on the trail of this Asa character. So why don’t we con him into going south after this Asa?”
“I don’t know,” Elmo muttered. “He might find him.”
“What’s he want him for? Questioning about a raid on the Catacombs. What kind of cooperation is he going to get someplace else? Not much. Way I hear it, the cities down the coast think Juniper is a bad joke. Anyway, we just want to buy a little time. And if he does catch up with Asa, I figure he catches up with Raven, too. Ain’t nobody going to bring Raven back. Not if he thinks the Taken are after Darling. They tangle, I’ll put my money on Raven. Cut out the only source of info. Temporarily or permanently. See what I mean? And if he does kill Raven, then Raven can’t talk.”
“How you going to talk Bullock into it?” Elmo asked. “It’s dumb, Croaker. He’s not going to go haring off after some minor suspect.”
“Yes, he will. You remember, when we came here, he had to translate? How do you figure he learned the language of the Jewel Cities? I asked him. He spent three years there looking for a guy who wasn’t any more important than Asa.”
Goblin said, “This mess gets crazier every day. We got so many cons and lies going I can’t keep track of them anymore. I don’t think we better do anything except cover our asses till the Captain gets here.”
I often had a feeling we were making things worse. But I could see no exit, other than to keep coping and hoping.
“Best way out,” Elmo observed laconically, “would be to kill everybody who knows anything, then all of us fall on our swords.”
“Sounds a little extreme,” Goblin opined. “But if you want to go first, I’m right behind you.”
“I’ve got to report in to Whisper,” I said. “Anybody got any brilliant ideas what I should tell her?”
Nobody did. I went, dreading the encounter. I was sure guilt smouldered in my eyes whenever I faced her. I resented Elmo because he did not have to endure her daily fits of ire.
Bullock was almost too easy. He was packing almost before I finished handing him my line of bull. He wanted that Asa bad.
I wondered if he knew something we did not. Or if he’d just worked up an obsession with the mystery of the invaded Catacombs.
Whisper was more of a problem.
She told me: “I want you to send somebody with him.” I had had to tell her something, so had told her most of the truth. I figured the chances of anybody tracking Asa and Raven were nil. But. … She seemed a little too interested, too. Perhaps she knew more than she pretended. She was, after all, one of the Taken.
Elmo picked three men, put Kingpin in charge, and told him to stick a knife in Bullock if he looked like needing it.
The Captain and Company were, I was told, in the Wolander Mountains a hundred miles from Juniper. They faced a slow passage through tough passes, but I began to anticipate their arrival. Once the Old Man showed, the weight would be off Elmo and me. “Hurry,” I muttered, and returned to tangling our skein of deceits.
Juniper: Lovers
Marron Shed fell in love. In love in the worst possible way—with a woman far younger, who had tastes far beyond his means. He charged into the affair with all the reserve of a bull in rut, disdaining consequences, squandering his cash reserve as though it came from a bottomless box. His boxes dried up. Two weeks after he met Sue, he made a loan with Gilbert, the moneylender. Another loan followed that, then another. Within a month he had gone into debt farther than he had been during the winter.
And he did not care. The woman made him happy, and that was that. Compounding his negative attributes was a tendency toward willful stupidity and an unconscious confidence that money could be no problem ever again.
Wally’s wife Sal visited the Lily one morning, grim and slightly ashamed. “Marron,” she said, “can we talk?”
“What’s the matter?”
“You were going to help with rent and stuff.”
“Sure. So what’s the problem?”
“Well, I don’t want to sound ungrateful or like I have any right to expect you to support us, but our landlord is threatening to throw us out on account of the rent hasn’t been paid for two weeks. We can’t get work on account of nobody is putting out any sewing right now.”
“The rent isn’t paid? But I saw him just the other day. …” It hadn’t been just the other day. He had forgotten. His mother, too. Her servants’ salaries would be due in a few days. Not to mention Lisa’s. “Oh my,” he said. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll take care of it.”
“Shed, you’ve been good to us. You didn’t have to be. I don’t like seeing you get into this kind of mess.”
“What kind of mess?”
“With that woman. She’s trying to destroy you.”
He was too puzzled to become angry. “Sue? Why? How?”
“Give her up. It’ll hurt less if you break it off. Everybody knows what she’s doing.”
“What’s she doing?” Shed’s voice was plaintive.
“Never mind. I said more than I should already. If there’s ever anything we can do for you, let us know.”
“I will. I will,” he promised. He went upstairs, to his hidden cash box, and found it barren.
There was not a gersh in the place, upstairs or down. What was going on? “Lisa. Where’s all the money?”
“I hid it.”
“What?”
“I hid it. The way you’re carrying on, you’re going to lose this place. You have a legitimate expense, tell me. I’ll cover it.”
Shed goggled. He sputtered. “Who the hell do you think you are, girl?”
“The girl who’s going to keep you in business in spite of yourself. The girl who’s going to stop you from being a complete fool with Gilbert’s woman.”
“Gilbert’s?”
“Yes. What did you think was going on?”
“Get out,” Shed snapped. “You don’t work here anymore.”
Lisa shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
“Where’s the money?”
“Sorry. Come see me when you get your common sense back.”
Shed raged around the common room. His customers clapped, egging him on. He threatened. He cajoled. Nothing worked. Lisa remained adamant. “It’s my family!” he protested.
“You go prove that woman isn’t Gilbert’s whore. Then I’ll give you the money and walk.”
“I’ll do that.”
“What if I’m right?”
“You’re not. I know her.”
“You don’t know shit. You’re infatuated. What if I’m right?”
He was incapable of entertaining the possibility. “I don’t care.”
“All right. If I’m right, I want to run things here. You let me get us out of debt.”
Shed bobbed his head once and stormed out. He was not risking anything. She was wrong.
What was her game? She was acting like a partner or something. Like his mother had, after his father died and before she
lost her sight. Treating him like he did not have twice her experience of business and the world.
He wandered for half an hour. When he came up from his melancholy, he saw he was near Sailmakers’ Hall. Hell. He was there; he’d just go see Gilbert. Make a loan so he could see Sue that night. Little bitch Lisa could hide his money, maybe, but she couldn’t keep him away from Gilbert.
Half a block later he began to suffer conscience pangs. Too many people depended upon him. He shouldn’t make his financial situation worse.
“Damned woman,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t talk to me that way. Now she’s got me doubting everybody.” He leaned against a wall and fought his conscience. Sometimes lust pulled ahead, sometimes the urge toward responsibility. He ached for Sue. … He should not need money if she really loved him. …
“What?” he said aloud. He looked again. His eyes had not deceived him. That was Sue stepping into Gilbert’s place.
His stomach sank like a falling rock. “No. She couldn’t There must be
an explanation.”
But his traitor mind started cataloguing little oddities about their relationship, particularly mauling her penchant for spending. A low-grade anger simmered over the fire of his hurt. He slipped across the street, hurried into the alley leading behind Gilbert’s place. Gilbert’s office was in the back. It had an alley window. Shed did not expect that to be open. He did hope to sneak a peek.
The window was not open, but he could hear. And the sounds of lovemaking in no way approximated what he wanted to hear.
He considered killing himself on the spot. Considered killing himself on Sue’s doorstep. Considered a dozen other dramatic protests. And knew none would move either of these villains.
They began talking. Their chatter soon killed Shed’s hold-out doubts. The name Marron Shed came up.
“He’s ready,” the woman said. “I’ve taken him as far as I can. Maybe one more loan before he starts remembering his family.”
“Do it, then. I want him wrapped up. Make the hill steep, then grease it. He got away from Krage.”